


The Journal

by SargentCorn



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, I'm here to hurt everyone with this, Please Don't Hate Me, Please Don't Kill Me, Post-Canon, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tuberculosis sucks, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SargentCorn/pseuds/SargentCorn
Summary: In which John reads, and reads to Abigail, Arthur's journal.
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Hinted Arthur Morgan/Abigail Roberts Marston
Comments: 13
Kudos: 89





	1. I

Abigail found him sitting on their bed rubbing the cover Arthur’s journal. Sitting down next to him, she noted the tears gathering in his eyes. Placing a hand on his shoulder, and her other settled over his, she asked, “John, are you alright?”

He turned to her with a pained smile. “No, I… ain’t.” John glanced down to where their hands lay. “Despite all our travels, I never opened it to read it. I… only opened it to see where his last journal entry was before I started writing my own.” With an exhale, John glanced around the room. “And I know we got the ranch and all, and that I shouldn’t revisit the past, and yet… I can’t help but want to.”

Abigail returned his sad smile and wiped some of the gathering tears away. “I understand, John. How… how about we read it together?” Then she paused only to start giggling. “Well, I suppose you’ll be doing most of the reading.” John chuckled with her as they placed their foreheads together.

“I guess I shall.”

———

Thumbing open the journal with a shaky exhale, John glanced at her before finding the first page. “I bought this journal, after the last one got destroyed in that fire all those months ago, whenever it was. Haven’t written or drawn much in the past few months, but I was missing it more than I thought I would, and finally near a store, so here I am, I guess. After all that business up North and the fire, we spent a few months in the wilderness, traveling down from the Northern Grizzlies, stuck mostly western foothills of the mountains during the worst of the winter. Food was easy to find, and life was good.”

“It was,” Abigail murmured. “Probably the last time we were all really happy before Blackwater. And despite our constant fights too.” John pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Dutch had a lead for some land were going to buy, but the land did not match up to his criteria, or he got spooked we were being watched by the law and that somebody knew who he was, and we never bought it and we are wandering still.”

A silent question passed between the both of them. They wondered the true reason why Dutch hadn’t bought it, and after 1899, they weren’t sure they wanted to know. John cleared his throat to begin reading again. “We picked up a couple of new folk in the Grizzlies. Jenny, a sweet young girl we met abandoned on the roadside, and Mi-micah,” John stumbled over the man’s name, “an outlaw Dutch met in a bar someplace. Dutch seems very taken with Micah, who is pretty hot-headed, argumentative and full of himself. Hosea and I are less sure. Guess we will see.” John couldn’t help the snort that came from his body. "Oh, we saw alright," he grumbled.

Abigail nudged him with her arm. “It’s over now,” she reminded him.

“I know,” John whispered back. “But in some ways I’m still angry. About what he did.” Abigail squeezed his thigh, and he took that as a cue to start reading again. “Eventually, we came out of the wilderness and are holed up outside of Blackwater, although sometimes I stay in town, hunting for opportunities. I might be on to something. We got plenty of money, and the trail we took was so tortuous and slow nobody could have followed us south and ear, or figured out where we was heading. We was thinking about California, but then Dutch and Hosea brought us down to Blackwater.”

He paused to let out a yawn and rub his eyes. Glancing outside, he noticed the sky was pitch black. Abigail seemed to know what he was thinking. “How about we take a break, John? We can read more tomorrow.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Pressing a kiss to her cheek, John got up and moved over to the chest where he kept some of their old things. Opening it, he gently placed the journal back inside before getting up and moving to lay next to Abigail. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night, John.”


	2. II

The next night brought another round of reading. 

Curled up on their bed, Abigail waited as John knelt beside the chest again. With a heaviness in his heart, he lifted the old journal from its resting place. He rubbed the cover with one hand before standing and moving to settle next to Abigail. She rested her head on his chest as he flipped through the pages to where they had stopped. Exhaling loudly, John began to read.

———

“Blackwater has apparently grown a whole lot since any of them was last here - I was told to expect little more than a trading post. But the place is growing fast, and it’s almost a small city. The town seems to be riddled with corruption.” John snorted as he doubted that had changed much. “But there’s certainly plenty of money here. It’s good to be sleeping in a bed from time to time and living a more civilized life after so long under canvas.”

“It is,” Abigail murmured into his shoulder. “I certainly prefer the ranch to the city. John hummed his agreement.

“But I do not particularly like being this near to a town. We are living here, camping outside of town mostly, hidden in plain sight, I guess. Life seems pretty easy. Abigail and Marston keep arguing.” John felt his breath hitch. So Arthur had done more than just leave him a message in his journal for him to see. He had written about him and Abigail. A hand squeezed his forearm. A silent reminder to what he had now, and that he wasn’t the man he had been before.

“I wonder why exactly he came back. He cannot seem to decide if he wants to be a father to that boy of his or not. The arguing is exhausting.” Swallowing, he pressed a kiss to Abigail’s head to let know he wasn’t leaving anymore. She squeezed his forearm again. “I heard talk of a man that sounded like Trelawny, but we haven’t seen him for many months.” He flipped the page. The first word made his voice crack. “Hosea… Hosea and I are onto something. Something pretty big - might be a lot of cash coming in to do with a real estate scam Hosea thinks he may have found. I am not sure yet. The perfect crime - one where we rob crooks. We are being real careful. It’s fun working with Hosea again. The man is an artist of nonsense.” John had to stop reading as laughter bubbled out of his chest.

“He, he was certainly that,” Abigail said in between giggles.

“He was. And more,” John agreed. His heart still felt heavy about Hosea’s death. The man had been more of a father than Dutch had been. Hands broke him from his thoughts, and he turned to see Abigail smiling at him sadly. “I miss him, Abi.”

“Me too, John, me too.” She took a quick glance around the room. “I think he would have been proud to see what we achieved.”

“Yeah. He would had definitely had a room here too. More than Uncle.” Abigail giggled into his chest accompanied by a soft smack to his chest and his name said between giggles. Smiling, he returned to reading. “Even if nothing comes of it, we are having an amusing enough time. It’s good to be running scams again. Hosea is a born huckster. He is getting anxious, worried that by lingering in town, we are going to be bring undue attention on ourselves. But Dutch thinks he is also onto something big, his words, not mine, bank money being brought in by boat, apparently, so for now, we are working on both things and seeing what happens.” He let the unsaid words between them settled. They both know how that turned out.

“Plan is to flee west into the desert country someplace if we can. Micah and Dutch are planning to rob the ferry in town. They think it’s laden with riches - cash coming in for the banks, coming in by boat. For once, I am not getting involved in the job, Hosea and I are too taken up with our business, which I believe could go very well, and Dutch seems confident that with the group assembled, all will be okay.” He shook his head flipping to the next page. Abigail pressed a kiss to his chest to calm him. He returned the gesture with a kiss of his own to the top of her head.

“Plan is for them to carry out the job, then flee into the wilderness out to the West. The next day, Hosea and I carry out our scam and join them. Dutch seems happy and excited. He’s talking again about California, but he’s also talking about a lot of other places.” When John flipped to the next page, he noted it was about the time spent up at Colter. 

Sighing, he placed the journal on the nightstand prompting Abigail to sit up on her elbow. “Next bit was about Colter,” he replied to her silent question. “Figured we’d save that for tomorrow night.”

“Sounds like a fine idea.” She rubbed her free hand on his chest. “You okay?”

“Just…” He couldn’t form the words, and gestured into the open air with his hand knowing she’d understand.

“I know. Seems like just yesterday we were running from Blackwater. Now, we live near it.”

“Yeah. Surprised no one recognized me. Or even now when I go to grab things for us.”

“Well,” Abigail started with a smile and a gesture to her cheek where his scars were. He groaned and grabbed his pillow pressing it into her face.

“Shush you,” he laughed as she pushed the pillow away.

“Never.” She leaned forward to kiss him, and with her lips on his, John felt like he could take on the world.


	3. III

The afternoon brought a heatwave that made it damn near impossible to work in. Uncle, being Uncle, complained loudly to Jack who hid his face into his book. He and Abigail found some shade to hide under with water and Arthur’s Journal with them. Since there was a lull in work, they might as read more.

———

“We have been running for weeks, I mean running more than usual,” John started. Abigail didn’t rest her head against his shoulder, and he didn’t blame her nor mind it. It was far too hot to cuddle against each other no matter how much he wanted too. “The job they was pulling in Blackwater, robbing that ferry, it turned into a disaster.”

“That’s understatement,” Abigail said, and John agreed. It turned into the downfall of the gang.

“Young Jenny got killed, poor thing, while Sean and Mac both got arrested, or killed, nobody seems sure which. Dutch shot a girl, I am not too sure if by accident or design, and seems like it might have been a setup. We took to the hills in an almighty scramble, leaving money and most of our things behind.” Abigail palmed her neck idly, and John watched for a heartbeat before asking, “What did you lose?”

“Oh, just a necklace. It wasn’t anything big or pretty, but I liked it.”

“Well, next time I head into Blackwater, I’ll see if I can find you a decent once, okay?” His wife’s mouth turned into a radiant smile, and John felt his heart skip several beats seeing it.

“Thank you, John,” she replied before pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“Of course,” he stammered before quickly bringing his gaze back to the paper. “Then, as we were fleeing east over the Grizzlies, an almighty storm hit us. Davey Callendar, who got shot on the raid, passed away. It was brutal to watch, and the rest of us nearly froze, but we found shelter and have been resting here in some old, abandoned mining town while we await the thaw.” He paused for a second before reading, “Davey. There’s a small cross next to his name.”

“That’s awfully sweet of Arthur to do that,” Abigail said, rubbed her thumb over where Davey’s name was.

“Yeah, real sweet of him.” John shuts the journal as his head rests against the wood. “You know, Arthur always seemed so… so… um…” His brows knit together as he struggled to find the word, which only served to make Abigail giggle at him. “Well, you know what I’m trying to say. It’s kinda odd to hear him so… wordy?”

“I know what you mean. It’ll be interesting to read the rest of this.”

“Yes, it will be.” He moved over to grab the two cups and the water jar. He quickly poured them two drinks and raised his. “To Arthur.”

“To Arthur,” she repeated clinking her glass against his. They would read more later after some of the heat had passed on.


	4. IV

The heat took its sweet time passing, but near five o’clock and after the dinner, they were able to read again. Abigail nestled next to John while he flipped to where they had left off.

———

“Hardly the spring I had been hoping for. Hosea and I had been planning a robbery of our own in Blackwater, but I guess that’s been abandoned along with most of what I owned. I am profoundly concerned as to what happens next, once we leave this place or the law finds us cowering up here.”

“I did wonder if that was gonna happen,” Abigail mumbled into his shoulder, and John swallowed at the thought.

“Me too,” he agreed softly before flipping the page. “Found a girl, well a woman I should say. Her husband had been murdered by some of Colm O’Driscoll’s boys - nasty business. Seems Colm O’Driscoll had the same ideas as us. He’s been hiding up here, scouting for a train he wanted to rob. We bumped into some of his boys at some farmstead they was robbing, found that poor woman whose husband they had murdered and she’s now riding with us as she ain’t got no place to be.”

“Oh, Sadie,” Abigail whispered. “I wonder how she’s doing.”

“Knowing her? Probably bloodthirsty and angry as always, so alright.” John grinned down at his wife who chuckled.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Then, Dutch being Dutch and his hatred for Colm being just as powerful as it ever was, whole bunch of us went to pay him a visit in his camp, but he escaped. We grabbed one of his boys. Poor bastard ain’t spoken yet, but he will once we freeze him a little, then set Bill on him.” John made a face at the mention of Bill’s name but pressed on with his reading. “Been a bad few weeks, but we’re mostly still alive.” Clearing his throat John added, “We were just barely holding. I don’t remember much of Colter, but we was holding on.” Abigail squeezed his upper arm in comfort.

“Dutch being Dutch is busy making plans and figuring out just how we’re going to survive. And Dutch being Dutch, those plans involve robbery and dreams.” John took a second to look forward a few pages. “It’s about Horseshoe. Reckon we’ll save the start for tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me, John.”

Gently, John wrapped the journal back together before standing up and offering his hand to Abigail who took it with a smile. They shared a small kiss before Abigail parted. “Best I get started with dinner least Uncle starts moaning about it.”

“He does, and I’ll chase him around the ranch with a broom.” Abigail did that giggle-snort John loved so well, and he felt his heart skip a beat at the sound. How he longed for the chance to really thank Arthur for saving him when he could have left him.


	5. V

Dinner was short and sweet. And far tastier than it had been in a while. Something he couldn’t help but comment on. “Well, you’re getting better, Abi. Might not kill us all with your cooking,” he grinned teasingly. Abigail snorted before playfully smacking him on the shoulder.

“I’ll remember that, John,” she grinned back. Her eyes glittered with amused love towards him, and John felt his heart swell. There were to playfully disgusted groans from Jack and Uncle, who told the pair of them to get a room. They burst into giggles as the two quickly took the dishes away, Uncle included and fled the room.

Smiling sweetly, John inquired, “Shall we go find another spot to read now that it’s cooled down a bit?”

“Sounds good, John.”

——————

“Finally, a thaw in this god awful weather. We got off the mountain, and rode east into some pretty enough country called The Heartlands. Ain’t been this far east in many a year. Hosea seems to know the country a little. Ain’t been much of a spring either. Now holed up at a place called Horseshoe Overlook, outside of some dumpy little cattletown, name of Valentine.” John flipped the page.

“Valentine was a nice place,” Abigail commented. “Despite the smell.”

“Yeah, but here’s better.”

“That it is.”

“Dutch seems a little better. His eyes are sparkling once more and I can see he’s thinking a little clearer.” John paused, before adding, “I wish he had stayed that way so the gang didn’t go the way it did.”

“Me too, John. I miss all them, but I’m happier here. Don’t have to worry about where we’re headed, and Jack has a stable life compared to what we had.”

“That’s true,” John admitted lowly. He turned back to the journal to read the last sentence on the page. “I think we all feel a bit happier, in spite of Blackwater and that whole mess.” Shutting the journal, he placed it next to him on the ground. “We were a bit happier there. And at Clemons Point.”

“Yeah, up till when Sean was killed.” She threaded their hands together, and squeezed his in comfort. “Real nice view at both camps. Oh, when that sun would shine on Flat Iron Lake…” She trailed off remembering.

“Well, maybe… maybe in a couple of days we can ride over, find a nice spot under some shade, and watch the water for a bit?” John offered, trying to not freak out at the idea of being that close to water again. Abigail watched him with a small fond smile.

“You sure you wanna do that?”

“Yeah. I mean, if it makes you happy, Abi.” Her smile grew wider.

“Oh, John,” she whispered before pulling him into a slow kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, yes, please don't kill me. This idea wouldn't leave me alone, and I couldn't help it coming out. Updates will be slow, as Fragile and Ghosts Around the Campfire will take priority over this fic. But I figured I'd write the first chapter, and get it out.
> 
> Abigail/Arthur is hinted at as Arthur admits in his journal he would have married her, if she had not fallen for John. Plus he mentions something about a part of him thinking about that, and damning Mary in the same sentence. And I have a soft spot for the idea of Arthur and Abigail being with each other despite the age difference. Anyways, it won't play much of a role in this story except for maybe a mention here or there.
> 
> This fic will go from the unseen Blackwater chapter to Arthur's last entry. I won't be adding Jack or Uncle to this story, as I feel it would be better as a thing between Abigail and John, plus I don't think the both of them would Jack to hear about John leaving him and Abigail for a year. Or maybe they do tell him eventually. Since it's not clear, I'm not going to add it.
> 
> I'll be doing a couple journal entries at a time, and will try my best to find a natural stop. I apologize if a chapter ends oddly.
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy.


End file.
